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ripplestitchskein · 1 month

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Establishing Shot

Episode 3: Spring Broken

To catch up on the rest of this analysis series or see other essays referred to here please refer to the Master Post.

This analysis may be a little shorter because this episode is less of a story driver and more of a backstory drop. That’s not a criticism of the episode, but the two major things to come out of it (Loona and Blitzo’s relationship and Verosika) are also explored in other episodes so it’s one you could skip technically without losing anything. It’s more of a setup episode to dig into things deeper down the line without them coming from nowhere. This episode does have some really important relationship parallels though and some cute and fun moments I enjoy a lot.

The episode opens with Blitzø loudly and badly singing along with a song on the radio. Millie looks pleased, Moxxie is covering his ears, our first indication he is a music snob but not the last, and Loona is rolling her eyes as per usual.

The song itself really evokes that sense of bad early teens and 20’s relationship decisions, there is a kind of nostalgia with it in the sense that you had fun being fucked up and irresponsible and it reminds you of that, but you wouldn’t want to go back to that place. I think this is intentional with Verosika being a youthful indiscretion, a different time in Blitzo’s life. I don’t think he’s necessarily nostalgic for it, he seems to resent it and view it as a waste of time, but I think the song serves to put the audience in that mindset.

Verosika steals Blitzø’s parking space and we have the episode conflict right up front and center.

We are given A LOT of information in dialogue drops. I found the amount of information dropped in such a contentious, snappy scene to be super fun. I love efficient dialogue and this delivers.

Verosika and Blitzø used to date, Verosika has a drinking problem but she left rehab early due to her fame and obviously hasn’t handled it if the flask in her hand is any indication. She pulls from it immediately and it is a fun little plot device later you aren’t necessarily expecting. I actually didn’t pick up on it until my second rewatch. I liked this detail a lot and appreciated how naturally it was worked in.

Blitzø is revealed to have a sister that is also in rehab and based on his reaction he is upset about that. Blitzø has a lot of resentment about Verosika in general, it carries through in every interaction, and seems misplaced given she reveals he is the one who ran off, leaving her to foot the bill and then maxxed out her credit cards. This could be because of something yet to be revealed, or it could be just a nod to how people act with toxic early relationships.

Their argument uses a lot of gendered insults and sexual aggression, which speaks to why it didn’t work out between them.

To digress for a moment, I think Blitzø’s reaction to women in general is interesting. I’m keeping an eye on it this rewatch but he is always much more verbally aggressive towards female characters, excepting Loona and Millie. In Murder Family he is very misogynistic with the client. In LooLoo Land he yells at the offended mother. In the Hellbie’s clinic he yells at the waiting mom and the secretary and when he goes to visit Barbie in rehab he is super intense with the nurse. He shuts up Octavia in LooLoo Land, and he is kind of nice about it, calling her sweetie, but ultimately dismissive and he also says some really gross things about her on the phone in LooLoo Land.

It may just be my perception but he tends to back off when faced with other males, or is certainly not as intense with them. Vortex in this episode, Asmodeus in others, and he’s almost deferential to Striker and Crimson. He gets a little aggressive in his language with Stolas but he is clearly the dominant one in that relationship.

Back to the episode.

Loona is clearly interested in the Verosika proceedings. She is a fan. It’s a more positive emotion than we’ve seen from her thus far.

Verosika mentions that Vortex is her new bodyguard and he does a better job than Blitzø ever did.

The running theme of people telling Blitzø he is bad at his past jobs is one of my favorite little character details. Each little jab speaks to his insecurity and the entire show being about him finding his place and something he can prove he’s good at. It’s a really subtle way to drive that insecurity home for the audience. This comes up later in his conversations with Striker, Fizz and Crimson, some from a place of building him up as a manipulation tactic and others bringing him down.

The IMP gang are all shocked he dated a famous pop star, and like I mentioned in my Ozzie’s essay he is very dismissive, and annoyed about it. Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, “Yeah we dated, so what?” “Why are you all acting like that’s such a shock.” They are fairly insulting to him about it.

“You are all making it a way bigger deal than it needs to be. I don’t pry into your stupid personal lives.” Which they all rightly point out he absolutely does. And in this episode in fact, not only with a Loona but asking if Millie pegs Moxxie.

Millie asks what sex with Verosika is like showing us Blitzø is not the only one with boundary issues, and Blitzø, the most sexual character on this show save for Stolas, who is equal and limits it to Blitzø only for the most part, asks them to drop it. He does NOT want to talk about this. It is such a departure even this early on you can clock it as significant. There is history there and Blitzø does not like it.

Loona bemoans that she did her makeup shitty on a day when she met such a famous person and Blitzø tells her she looks perfect like always. He is in full on simpering dad mode, which is always cute. Loona FINALLY drops that he is her Dad for the audience, though she takes it back immediately and calls him Blitz, so now we know this is a thing: he is her dad and he is over the top in his affection and she rejects it.

Another digression, apologies, but this is SUPER IMPORTANT.

I find it really telling that Blitzø’s “unwanted” affection for Loona is treated very differently than Stolas’s by the *ahem* more critical fandom. Because they are essentially the same. They just aren’t both sexual. To be extremely clear, I do not in anyway think Stolas’s sexual advances are unwanted, just like I don’t think Blitzø’s parental desperation is. We have two very opinionated characters, who absolutely leave situations they find truly undesirable. In this very episode we have evidence of it. Blitzø left Verosika. Blitzø leaves Loona on the beach after they fight. Loona storms off repeatedly and Vortex even praises her for standing up for herself.

Blitzø is over the top affectionate, he uses a baby voice, he offers her treats, he calls her a silly name she doesn’t seem to like. And she shuts him down, she scoffs, she rolls her eyes, she runs away, she is visibly annoyed. Repeatedly. All things Blitzø does to Stolas. She is JUST AS uncomfortable with it but through her expressions when he’s not looking, her body language cues, and her deflection via dialogue like when she calls him Dad and corrects herself, we can tell she craves that familial love and she even gives into it at times when she can tell Blitzø needs her too even though she fears getting too close, like in Queen Bee.

Blitzø does the EXACT SAME THING with Stolas. Stolas baby talks him, offers him little treats. (Of the more sexual variety), calls him a cutesy name he is annoyed about but when Stolas seems to truly need him to be softer Blitzø gives in even though he fears getting too close, and I firmly believe this parallel is incredibly intentional. These are two very important relationships in Blitzo’s life and they directly mirror each other.

There is more to the Loona & Blitzø vs Stolas/Blitzo relationship parallel for me than even the Fizz and Asmodeus one because it really shows that Blitzø and Stolas come from the exact same place, they are just in different positions in each relationship.

What works the most about it is that BECAUSE Blitzø is on the rejected side of the Loona relationship it actually feeds into his rejection of the Stolas relationship. The one person he should be able to give and receive love freely with, his actual family, even pushes him away. Because he feels unworthy of a romantic relationship, he tries too hard with his familial one and the cycle repeats. There is also a lot to say about their positions of power in these relationships as well.

Blitzø took Loona in. He houses and feeds her and gave her a job. He feels comfortable expressing his affection because he is the “power” holder. He essentially secured Loona’s place in his life by taking her in and giving her a job in his business. I wouldn’t normally put it in those terms for a teenage adoption, but it’s an appropriate way to look at it in this show, especially with what’s said in the episode. Blitzø feels like taking her in and giving her a place should count for something and Loona resents it, she was almost an adult anyway. We even see him more or less “shopping” for her when we flash back in Seeing Stars. He bought her from a pound. Loona feels like she didn’t need him. She does, but she doesn’t want to.

With Stolas it’s the opposite for Blitzø. Stolas secured Blitzø’s place in his life with the grimoire. Stolas is why his business runs right now. Just like Loona, Blitzø needs Stolas, not just for the grimoire, just like Loona doesn’t need Blitzø for just her job and her home, but he doesn’t want to need Stolas for anything either.

(I want to be clear that this is JUST in the context of this cartoon show. I in no way look at actual adoption in real life through this lens, just need to say that for the weirdos.)

We also see that Loona is more alike with her father than she wants to admit, even rejecting affection the exact same way. Their relationship development is on a similar track and pace as well. We get a change with Stolas and Blitzø in Ozzie’s and directly after a change with Loona and Blitzø in Queen Bee. I will…. probably write a whole separate essay on this with all the examples to flesh it out more. It’s that crucial, but I don’t want to spend too much more time on it here. It was just too critical to leave out.

Okay, sorry, back to the episode.

Moxxie offers to ease the tension and talk to Verosika. The succubi crew attack him and then Blitzø gets really pissed. It’s one of those little “he really cares about his employees” moments I adore. We also get the first hint Moxxie is bisexual when he doesn’t reject the male coded incubus for any other reason than he is married.

Blitzø is very clear he is only throwing down the challenge they can kill more people than the succubi can fuck because they went after his employee. I’m interested in the lore of a “demon challenge” but Verosika backs down for an unrelated reason so no clues as to how binding they are.

We also get a good glimpse of Verosika’s tattoo, which is a heart with Blitzø crossed out. She was obviously way more into the relationship than he was, and as I speculated in the Ozzie’s essay I think he fled because of her trying to get too close to him and he was intimated by her increasing fame and the eyes and scrutiny that brought with it. I’m sure there is more to it they’ll explore but that is what we have so far. I find it interesting as well that we don’t get any more info about their relationship than got in Spring Broken in the Ozzie’s episode, she was solely there as a contrast with Stolas just like Fizz.

Like many of the characters from Blitzø ‘s past she continues to pointedly use BlitzO instead of the name he prefers.

I think this is less of a deadnaming thing as some people interpret it, than an “until he reconciles his past with them they won’t let him forget it” thing. Names are a big deal on this show and only the characters that knew him before pointedly use the O. As he makes amends to these people he hurt, intentionally or not, they will accept the new life he’s trying to lead.

It is possible he could revert back to BlitzO as well by the end, that’s a viable direction to go, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be the former. They won’t call him Blitz and accept the change he’s trying to make until he makes amends.

Stolas gives Blitzø a new name altogether, one that he doesn’t appear to like either, but for different reasons. I think in that instance instead of the changing his name to escape his past he dislikes the nickname because of his fear of the future and the intimacy and romantic love that it could come with. Blitzø sees cutesy nicknames as a sign of affection, and he uses them frequently with people he loves LoonyToony, MillieBillie, etc to express his love. Having Stolas do the same to him scares him.

Blitzø breaks down the plan on the board with a little cartoon. He maintains that intense aggression about Verosika throughout. Moxxie and Blitzø argue about the plan and drop a cute little art school joke.

Loona asks if she can come this time and Blitzø forbids it with a fourth wall break about people over sexualizing her.

We get some lore about the human disguises, Loona has one but the imps don’t. This is a problem in this universe and is called back to in TruthSeekers and Seeing Stars. This potentially has plot implications later, either with D.H.O.R.K.S or an overarching Hell authority. I have some theories that both IMP and Stolas will be in trouble over this eventually.

Blitzø makes a flyer that hints at his dyslexia, Moxxie is wrong again, and they have the clients they need to kill for the challenge.

We arrive at the beach, which conveniently has all the targets the clients require. Loona sniffs a piece of paper and can somehow find them. I will take no “but the world building consistency!” criticisms about this show, specifically because of this scene that tells us “sometimes you just hand wave shit to get the plot moving, it doesn’t have to make sense, it’s not that deep”.

We get a little murder montage. Blitzø is being cocky and then Verosika starts the episode’s song. Verosika puts up a Fuck You Blitzo sign, which is echoed by a sign hanging off the building over the parking space at the beginning of the episode that says Buck You Flitzo. I do not know why that sign is there in the parking lot but it’s a fun detail.

Verosika can’t get through a song without drinking. I still really like the use of the flask as both a plot device and a character issues nod wrapped up in one so it bears repeating.

Loona seems to be captured by the energy of the song and approaches Vortex. There is an indication about the world building here, that the succubi can compel in some way with the song. Loona seems to almost be in a trance and the humans certainly are. Blitzø seems immune. He notices Loona is gone and yells out “where’s my baby” very dramatically with his very misplaced fatherly concerned about her.

Meanwhile, Verosika chucks her flask into the ocean. Trouble is brewing.

Loona approaches Vortex and she is very different to how we’ve seen her thus far. She’s awkward and strange and reveals she doesn’t have any friends. This is much different than how she interacts with the human men she lured into their deaths. She was very sure and not at all awkward with that. When confronted with someone she likes and is attracted to she falls to pieces a bit. Vortex is genuinely really nice, not playing into her little crush but still being friendly and teasing her a bit. I really like him as a side character.

Blitzø inserts himself into their conversation and says one of my favorite quotable lines “Conversation leads to HPV”.

He uses his authority as a boss first to get her back to work but it’s really coming from a place of parental concern. It’s a good character moment, instead of just telling her why he’s worried he defaults to boss Blitzø first.

This is one of the cruxes of their relationship issue. Blitzø adopted her when she was almost grown, he thinks that should count for something and Loona is rebellious teen yelling “You’re not my real dad”. Neither of them are approaching this from a good place. Blitzø is pushing his authority as both boss and father and Loona is pushing back and remaining guarded even after years of Blitzø being there for her. It takes time to break down those walls for both of them. That conflict starts here in Spring Broken and remains a plot point throughout.

Meanwhile Moxxie and Millie keep killing folks for the business. Moxxie gets mistaken for a possum and thrown into some beer.

Loona attempts to reach out to Blitzø but he rejects her this time and storms off. Vortex comforts Loona and is genuinely just a cool dude all around. Seriously, I like him a lot. I like the direction the show chose, where some shows might have gone the douchey route with such a character and had Loona experience a heartbreak that way, we get a different approach. He is a genuinely nice guy who is with someone else.

Loona appreciates Vortex’s support but still looks troubled. She doesn’t break down and approach Blitzø any further however.

She drops a bit of dialogue that’s meaningful instead: “He’ll get over it, he always does.”

Narrator: He doesn’t.

Millie gets a drunken Moxxie out of the beer cooler and he’s the cutest bean. I loved this scene from a personal level because, like my own partner, when he gets drunk he simps for his wife even harder. It was such a cute moment.

Millie goes feral when he’s in danger as she tends to do. The high five when he’s in the demon fish’s jaws while she is trying to save him makes me laugh out loud every time. It’s great. Like A+ animation choice.

Moxxie and Millie have a couple’s moment and a resentful Blitzø rolls his eyes and crosses his arms and says it’s too wholesome for him. I point this out because of how intentional it is as a character reveal. Moxxie and Millie were already cuddling but they amped it up and had Blitzø comment on it in an episode where his ex shows up and presents a very messed up relationship from his past.

Verosika and crew approach the team. They try to pin the blame on IMP but Millie has the flask. It’s shown again that there are consequences for what they do in the human world. They all seem to genuinely fear whatever those consequences are.

Verosika points out IMP will get in trouble too but Moxxie counters with one of my other favorite lines “A human called me a potthum, I am NOT a potthum.”

They agree to give back the parking space, Verosika is pissed. Blitzø gloats. So many middle fingers in this episode.

Loona and Tex are still talking and he offers to invite her to a party and drops that he has a girlfriend. Loona is incredibly disappointed.

Everyone heads home, I especially liked everyone’s different drops into the portal.

Verosika and crew get arrested and it’s implied they’ll get out of it for sexual favors.

This episode is just a fun one. I don’t think it’s meant to be taken too seriously but it has some fun character tidbits and the Loona and Blitzø relationship setup. We get more insight into Loona versus the apathetic sarcasm of the previous episodes. She is awkward and lonely and seems to be interested in finding a romantic partner. The episode itself frames this around Blitzo’s own youthful indiscretion, and is most likely the source of his concern though it’s a subtle setup. I like to think Blitzø was probably around Loona’s age when it all went wrong with Verosika, and that’s why he’s so overprotective. He knows where relationships in your late teens and early 20’s can go.

Loona is closed off to Blitzø but seems to genuinely want that connection between them, but they are too similar.

I like the placement of this episode story wise. I hinted at this in my previous analysis, and while I don’t know this for sure, the reveal of Blitzø as her adopted father at this point seems very intentional. In the non canon pilot it’s just dropped as a bit of quick dialogue and not even in a creative way, it’s kind of forced actually but I like that when they sat down and developed it further they waited for the right moment. We go two episodes entire episodes without learning it in canon.

I mentioned in the Murder Family analysis that I initially thought Loona was an employee he was sexually harassing not his daughter. I can’t determine if the creators thought everyone watching had seen the Pilot or if they wanted to wait to introduce it on purpose. I lean towards the latter considering how carefully crafted Murder Family was as a true Pilot.

It would have been okay to just dialogue drop it again in Murder Family or made sense to mention it in LooLoo Land given the father/daughter focus of that episode but I think they made the right choice dropping it here. Not only is this a more Loona centric episode but we, the audience, can now directly contrast it with the preceding episode.

In LooLoo Land, Stolas is having a similar issue with Octavia, though the issue there is more of a family breakdown than an issue of independence, but whereas Stolas and Octavia resolve the conflict for the most part in that episode (though it will reappear in Seeing Stars in a slightly different way) Loona and Blitzø do not. They fight, they separate, they do not reconcile. This tells us this is an ongoing plot point, it will come up again and it will not be resolved in a single storyline, it is an ongoing thing they want to develop.

Not to keep being all BUT STOLITZ in an episode Stolas doesn’t even appear in, but I love the back to back contrast between LooLoo Land and Spring Broken and the fact that we are shown that, though Stolas and Blitzø are very different, they have similar issues in their relationships with their daughters. They are both fathers trying their best.

How the issues are handled speak to their flaws in character as well: Stolas fucks up because of his issues trying to force a happy family image and alienates his daughter, but he talks to her about it and she is receptive and forgives him and they reconcile. Octavia is very like her father in a people pleasing way in that she does go along with what Stolas wants (though she protests a lot more) and does this until she explodes and then she is soothed by actually talking it through and being receptive. Stolas has done similar things, he goes along with things to keep the peace and then he explodes, his blow up at Stella for instance. I’m hoping we’ll see more of him blowing up in future. Both Blitzø and Stolas are reflected in their daughters. Stolas even takes this same approach with Blitzø he does with Octavia, he reaches out and tries to talk, but because of Blitzø’s issues he gets rejected. Loona would do the same.

Blitzø and Loona’s conflict is both with his exerting his authority and being overbearing and overly affectionate which Loona doesn’t trust. Loona, because she is like Blitzø, rejects him for both, but because both of them default to ignoring the problem, neither talk about it and it goes unresolved.

I just really like this contrast. I also like how you can see how tied together all these characters are, they have thier own unique issues but they still parallel and mirror each other throughout.

I don’t like to refer to episodes as filler episodes, because no episode is truly just filler unless it’s a flashback episode and even then sometimes they matter, but this episode could be classified as such as it only gives us backstory hints and no real resolutions. As I said before if you skipped it you wouldn’t be missing any necessary context for the show as everything in it gets brought up again. It does introduce Verosika and setup Loona and Blitzø’s relationship conflict however. These are both important but we explore them elsewhere too so this is more of an establishing shot of those things rather than a typical setup and resolution. These are pins to be knocked down later.

We the audience know there is more to explore with both of them, whereas with LooLoo Land I don’t think they intended for Octavia to necessarily be a long term conflict for Stolas, they set it up and resolve it in one shot. Seeing Stars came later and was kind of a rehash of LooLoo Land but this time bringing both Loona and Blitzø into it and calling back to the issues of Spring Broken. Seeing Stars is what ties the issues of LooLoo Land and Spring Broken together, but that’s an essay for another day.

#helluva boss #Stolitz #helluva boss meta #stolas x blitz #Stolitz meta #Steffie analysizes media

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ridestomars · 2 years

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IN YOUR LAP OF LUXURY – S. HARRINGTON HEADCANONS

𖥻 pairing: old money!steve harrington x fem!reader. 𖥻 warnings: no mentions of y/n (finally!), allusions to sex/suggestiveness. not proofread - we die like men here.

💭 liv's thoughts: i'm back!!! and decided to start with this yummy concept that is very dear to me, so feel free to talk to me about old money!steve bc he owns my heart rn. i would also like to dedicate this one to @oncasette and @fleurfairie <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

♡ㆍIf you think Steve's a bit irresponsible when spending money, you should see how this boy gets when he starts dating you.

♡ㆍI swear that in less than two weeks of dating, Steve is planning on buying you a car, and will even take you to the dealership so you can choose your favorite vintage Cadillac – then you'd have to take your time convincing him that you do not, in fact, need a new car. He gets really grumpy.

♡ㆍNeedless to say that his love language is giving gifts. So, even though you might think he's only spending money because he can, Steve only does it because he adores you.

♡ㆍAnd because he is absolutely obsessed with your reaction every time he gifts you anything. There's no one in the world who would make him feel butterflies just by smiling brightly in his direction.

♡ㆍThis means that his credit card would either get put on hold or be limited by his dad – only because his old man is terrified of Steve spending all of their family's money on you. Which might sound a bit unreal, but it could totally happen, trust me.

♡ㆍEven when Steve wasn't dating you and you'd just hang out as friends, he would take you shopping for that cute top you saw weeks before but didn't get the chance to buy.

♡ㆍAnd I would also like to say that Steve remembers everything. Like, you may offhandedly comment that you liked one of Brooke Shields's jeans, and next thing you know, Steve already ordered at least five of them.

♡ㆍ“But baby, you said you liked 'em! Of course you'll need more than one… if one of them rips, then you'll have another one to use”, he'd explain to you like it was the most natural thing ever.

♡ㆍ And don't even get me started on how he would make you try on almost every single item in a clothing store and buy you almost all of them.

♡ㆍMan, when the sellers see him enter their stores it's like Christmas; they always receive you both with the biggest smile on their faces – partly because of the year-worth commission they would receive in only one day and because of the ginormous tip Steve would leave them.

♡ㆍThey're not so pleased when they hear the not-so-subtle moans that come out of the dressing booth.

♡ㆍIt's always a bit awkward when you both stand in front of the cashier. But hey! At least Steve would tip a $50 dollar bill.

♡ㆍSince being a poor ol' rich boy also comes with its cons, Steve would have to go to those fancy parties almost weekly. Friends of friends of his parent's friends, you know?

♡ㆍAt least it would serve as an excuse for Steve to buy you new party dresses. And let me tell you: he lives for assembling a good outfit.

♡ㆍHe would literally help you pick everything from your head to your toe. Hair accessories, nail polish and design, gold necklaces, fancy shoes…

♡ㆍAnd he'd always make sure that you're wearing his 'S' necklace – in fact, he got you that in both silver and gold.

♡ㆍBut anyway… Steve loves bringing you to those parties because now, at least, he has a company that he actually enjoys. And it also means that he can talk shit about people to you.

♡ㆍLuckily for you, he would know about everybody's business. And I mean it!

♡ㆍ “See that girl over there?” he discreetly points out to a blonde girl who's fixing her dress by the corner of the room, “She's going out with her best friend's dad”.

♡ㆍ“Hey, baby, look to this guy behind me”, Steve leans down to whisper, “Not like that! Now he totally knows we're talking about him”.

♡ㆍIf you excuse me for a minute, I would really like to talk about Steve's pet names for you because I literally cannot stop thinking about it:

♡ㆍWe'd start off with our very casual but still extremely sweet baby. It's almost second nature for Steve to call you that… in fact, he's been calling you that even before you were officially going out together.

♡ㆍThen, he literally never misses when he calls you princess, though I can totally see that happening in more intimate and domestic moments between the two of you. Like, when he shows you the new top he just got you and is passionately being kissed all over by you, Steve would just start laughing and say, “thank you, princess. Now, go try it on, will you?”, with the softest blush on his cheeks.

♡ㆍBut you seriously cannot look me in the eye and say that he wouldn't call you baby doll. I'm sorry but that's just so real that it hurts to even deny it. Again, another one of those pet names that Steve saves only for the two of you and your endearing moments together – especially when he gets to help you with your outfits.

♡ㆍAnd last but not less important, the rare lover that he would just randomly throw around like it doesn't affect you at all. He's just extremely evil like that. For example, every time he needs you to grab something for him, it's always something like, “lover, can you pass me the salt, please?” and you have to contain a lovesick sigh as you're passing the small glass over to him.

♡ㆍSince you were the one who introduced them to the kids, he might as well be considered more than their babysitter but the campaigner of their get-togethers.

♡ㆍWhich means that, at least, once every month he'd invite the kids (and Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie, and Robin) to what he calls "Harrington Marathon" – he's the only one to call it that, by the way. So he'd rent almost twenty movies because he simply "doesn't know what everybody likes" (knowing damn well what every single one of them like), and buy the most unhealthy snacks and drinks so that you all could watch movies until the sun rises.

♡ㆍHe would even go as far as buying the most cutting-edge VHS player, television, and sound system so that you could enjoy an almost cinema-like experience. His plan is always ruined by Dustin's screams and Eddie's rantings, though.

♡ㆍNeedless to say that he would also allow the kids to go over to his house so that they could play D&D without having to be interrupted by Mrs. Wheeler's screams.

♡ㆍAnd he always teams up with you so that you can throw each one of them a birthday party… and Steve goes as far as picking the birthday theme for each one of them because he just gets so excited – Max had a serious conversation with him when she found out that her birthday party theme would be Dig Dug related, but they both settled down for a horror house theme where she could dress up as Michael Myers again.

steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve, nancy and eddie.

𖤐 taglist: @kinqsteve ; @virgoyves ; @stevesmixtape ; @thedixon04 ; @joekeeryismyuncle ; @hqrrington ; @missmaxmayfield ; @slytherinambitious ; @artemis-the-ace ; @louievr ; @liltimmyst ; @Igotbasicdrag ; @saintlessmunson ; @stumachergf ; @falsegodsaltar ; @summer-may

if you'd like to be removed from my taglist, send me an ask or dm me! if you want to be added to my taglist, just click here

#old money!steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanons #headcanons #liv talks about stevie #liv writes #stevie! <3 #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #old money!steve x reader

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kingofsummer93 · 1 year

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Hello I just wanted to say I love your mind and your writing ☺️ so, I wanted to ask one of the more creative writers a very important question…

How do you think Elain would react if Lucien got a haircut? Also, how would YOU react?

Thank you anon! You're right, that IS a very important question.

Although I think Lucien could rock any hairstyle (I have this HC that he went through a phase in his youth with a shaved head and a nose ring), if he cuts his hair in canon I will REVOLT. I think Elain would have a very similar reaction, and I think it would look something like this:

The time Cassian cut Lucien's hair (or tried to)

Elain knew he was there before she even walked through the front door. She could always tell when he was close- if not by the steady thumping of his heart, then by his scent, rich and smoky and designed, it seemed, specifically to entice her.

So she’d been prepared to see him sitting in the family room. She had braced herself for the physical impact of seeing him, for that rope to coil in her chest, for the urge to get close to him, to touch him, smell him, taste him.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was the sight of Cassian standing behind him, grinning broadly and holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a strand of that gloriously red hair in the other. The very same hair that she pictured running her fingers through in the dead of night, the only time she allowed herself to think of him.

Elain’s first impulse was to scan the floor around the chair where her mate sat, to check for ruby-red strands. Her second impulse, upon seeing a chunk of long red hair coiled at his feet, was to gasp in horror. Both males simultaneously turned to look at her in alarm.

“Hey, Elain.” Cassian winced as his gaze swiveled between her and Lucien.

“Oh. Hi.” Lucien’s handsome features tightened with discomfort. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing?” Elain asked, her voice slightly breathless and tinged with alarm.

“Lucien lost a bet,” Cassian replied with a smirk, gesturing to a set of cards spread on the coffee table. “If I lost he would have won the honor of slapping me three times.”

“But since I lost,” Lucien continued, shrugging casually, “the general won the apparently great honor of cutting my hair.”

Cassian laughed darkly at this, raising the scissors once more. Elain’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as she struggled to process the scene in front of her. Her heart was in her throat, and suddenly she had an absurd, inexplicable urge to cry.

“Don’t!” As soon as she said it she clapped a hand to her mouth in horror. Had she really just said that?

Two sets of eyebrows rose in twin looks of surprise. Lucien’s lips curved into a smile, and Elain had never more wished for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

“You know,” Lucien started, still looking at her with that sly smile that made her flush all the way to her hairline, “thinking about it now, I think I might have miscalculated the points in that last round.”

Cassian, to his credit, did not miss a beat. The scissors dropped to his side as he scratched his chin in mock contemplation. “Hmm. I think you’re right. That’s very irresponsible of you, Fireling.”

“In that case, maybe we should play one more round. Just to play fair, of course.”

“You owe me one…” Cassian muttered under his breath, low enough that as a human she wouldn’t have heard. Elain pretended that she hadn’t, anyway.

The cards were reshuffled, the dice were rolled. It was really just curiosity about the game that made Elain stick around to see the result. It wasn’t because she cared about what happened to his stupid hair.

The hair that in her mind felt like liquid silk as she gripped it tightly enough to make Lucien tilt his head back, exposing the golden column of his throat…

“Aha!”

Elain jumped and shook her head to dispel her filthy thoughts. It was his fault, really. Maybe he should cut his hair, and maybe then he’d stop invading her thoughts.

“Looks like we have a new winner!” Lucien exclaimed, his russet eye twinkling with humor.

Elain let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, but of course it was only because Lucien was now comically stretching his forearms in preparation for slapping Cassian. It had nothing to do with that hair, gloriously untouched by those scissors.

Of course not.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #anon asks

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ivan-fyodorovich-k · 1 year

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Please explain how to write out a personal ledger like I’m 5 (my budget is getting tighter and I always pay my bills before any other spending but I’m tired of passively spending and wondering where 50 bucks went at the end of the month)

I have a five year old and if I explained this to you like you were five it would not be useful to you in your mid twenties

I do mine on the computer, I have a file in Microsoft Excel because I have Excel, but any spreadsheet program would work I'm sure, you could probably use Google sheets or whatever it’s called

warning: if you follow this method you will know how you spend your money

So what I do is this

I have a sheet set up as follows:

Column A is "Date," which is the date I spent the money

Column B is "Date Posted," which is the date the transaction actually clears my bank

Column C is "Amount," or the amount spent/moved/deposited. This will be a positive or negative number depending on whether you are adding or subtracting money from the account

Column D is "Category," which is very important for making this data useful for a budget. Categories will probably be subjective but the ones that I mainly use are:

Bill - this is for a regular monthly expense necessary to live, like car insurance, electricity, the mortgage, phone, etc.

Debt - this is for money I flush down the toilet. I used to have a separate category for "Medical Debt" but now it's all just Debt. Credit card payments and student loans. And medical debt.

Gas - when I buy gasoline it gets its own category

Groceries - as the name implies this is when I buy food from a grocery store, as distinct from:

Takeout - this is when I eat out, have delivery, fast food, etc., unhealthy sodium-saturated food prepared by someone else for immediate consumption

Misc - this is the useless category in which all other spending is absorbed, including my irresponsible purchases.

I also have the following categories:

Deposit - for when money goes in

Transfer - for when money is moved to or from another account

Withdrawal - for when I remove cash

Obviously you could have other categories for expenses you want to track more closely. Clothing might warrant its own category, or books, or snacks, which are sort of between takeout and groceries, or whatever.

Column E is "Location," which is where I spent the money. I usually try to write this how it appears on my ledger, which is not always where I remember physically spending it. For example, my wife's Old Navy card shows up as Barclay Card on the ledger, which has been the object of much confusion, leading to

Column F is "Notes," where I elaborate when Column E doesn't make very much sense. What is Barclay Card? Oh, the Old Navy card.

One place in which Columns E and F work together most regularly is on paydays, when E gives the name of the employer and F gives whose payday it is.

Column G just says "Balance," which I leave in cell G1 permanently, and then Column H / cell H1 is a running balance, which you can see above I let Excel calculate using a simple formula that takes the sum of all additions and subtractions in column C

Now, these features might be exclusive to Excel but I'm sure you could find equivalents in other spreadsheet programs. I have Row 1 / Top Row "Frozen" so that I can always see the column names and the balance as I scroll down. I also have columns A through F set to "filter," which is why they have the little drop-down arrow on the right-hand side, and this, as the name implies, lets me filter. So if you want to look at a specific category, or specific place, or something. I most often use this to filter out all but the current month in Column A, and to keep my transactions in the right chronological order.

Once its set up, and this is the painful part, you need to keep track of every single penny you spend. You can do this in the old-school way by keeping receipts or if you have online banking and they're pretty on top of things you can look at your bank ledger at the end of the day and add the day's transactions then. But if you let it sit more than a day or two you will have unpleasantness and it will only get worse the longer it sits. This is where having a Date and Date Posted column comes into play. There are some bills I have that take several days to post. My mortgage for example, which is my largest single bill, takes about four days to clear. My wife's student loans, the second largest bill, take about a week to go through. So I put those on my ledger the day I submit the payment and then they show up in the bank ledger a few days later and I note that as well. PayPal transactions also tend to take several days to go through. The other reason having a Date and a Date Posted column is nice is when you have to self-audit because there's a discrepancy between your balance and the bank’s, you can use the sort/filter function to sort your transactions by the date posted which makes it easier to compare your ledger to your bank.

The other thing I do is I have a little portion of the spreadsheet off to the side where I keep all of my fixed bills and their due dates and keep track of when I pay them in a month. The Unpaid / Paid cells at the top are so I can copy and paste the format of those cells as the month goes on. As the months go on I have to cut and paste this to keep it close to the end of the ledger. You don't really need to have this but I do, it helps me decide which paycheck pays which bills and when every month.

The other thing is I have a different sheet for every year, because I don't want a spreadsheet with 10,000+ rows. You could have a different sheet for every month or whatever, I don't know. I did it by year.

If you keep on top of this you will know better than your bank how much money you have at all times.

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emmafallsinlove · 11 months

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I keep thinking about how, especially compared to Logan, Jess almost never plays the "poor me" card. He never tries to excuse his bad behavior by blaming his bad circumstances, and the thing that really gets me is that he COULD HAVE! Like he had a horrible, unstable childhood in the slums and was rejected by both of his parents, didn't have anyone to teach him how healthy relationships work, etc. etc... And his FANS (and occasionally Rory in S2) make defenses on his behalf because of those things, but Jess himself never does. And, I mean, to be honest it might have actually been HELPFUL sometimes if he'd been more open to explaining things! But I do appreciate the way he takes ownership of his mistakes (which then translates into how he tries to fix them). And this sheds even more light on Rory and Logan's fight in "Balalaikas" because... Rory KNOWS how hard Jess's life has been (and I think she suspects that the full truth is even worse than what he's told her). And then here's Logan, her extremely wealthy boyfriend, going on about he should get to do whatever he wants because he's unhappy. "Oh yes, your horrible life! Let's hear about it!" and Logan's response is, "Got a week?" 😐

i agree with all of it but also, i have been thinking about it because i don’t think jess thinks he deserve to play the “poor me” card. i don’t think he wants people to feel sorry for him; this is life. this is all he knows. so i don’t think he even understands how fucked up everything that he’s been trough is.

i think their struggles are different. just because jess had a troubled life and suffers from long years of abusive parenthood doesn’t mean logan suffering & feelings isn’t valid because their struggles are different and we need to acknowledge it.

to me, logan suffering is overlooked because of how wealthy he is, but comparing between the two of them just seems unfair to me.

jess struggling with relationships and learns from his mistakes and want to be better, while logan feels like he is being pushed to unwanted future he cannot escape from.

did logan played the poor me card in that scene? definitely. does it makes me angry in a way that he think he can do it while we comparing jess suffering to his? also yes, but they are different people from different backgrounds and different life openings. and while jess achieved everything on his own, and this is very impressive and he should get the credit he deserves while not being looked out on by guy like logan - i’m being bothered that people compare them to each other.

same with “who’s the better boyfriend” and “jess was a shitty boyfriend to rory” but see, their dynamics are different. jess is a 17 years old abused kid who’s learning to navigate trough his first ever relationship that lasted 6 months.

logan, on the other hand, is a 23 years old boy that everyone wants to be with. he is rich, and by the time he meets rory, he is a full grown up adult, and while he acts like a child at times and being irresponsible (going and losing thousands of dollars in vegas, going to that life and death brigade thing that almost got him killed) both of them change and learn from their mistakes, the only difference in my eyes is that logan changes for rory, but jess changed for himself.

jess better himself for himself, not for luke or for rory, because he wanted to be better, and so eventually at s6 he became the man rory’s deserved.

when logan start to take responsibility in s7 it is important but does he ever change for himself or for her? and the answer is for her.

so it’s a long answer and i think i have lost my point in the middle of it but please let’s stop comparing a 23 years old man who’s having a few relationship in the past and had a 3 years of relationship with his girlfriend to a 17 years old kid who learns how to handle healthy relationships and to open up for the first time, tries to be better for himself and becomes a bookprint and realize that their struggles are different and just because someone had it “less harder” than you in regards to bad things happing to you doesn’t make that person suffering less valid.

#can we please stop comparing between a 23 years old man and a 17 years old kid?#im talking about discourse in the gg fandom in general nothing against you stella <3 #ask*

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slightlysuspect · 1 year

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Taxation & Representation

Mon Mothma and Bail Organa struggle to influence the tides of politics

Bail Organa

"Does the printing not seem a little excessive?" I ask.

"Well, what else are we supposed to do Bail?" Senator Aang asks in return.

"Prices have gone up 25% since we started printing more Republic Credits." I say. "It's killing our people across the galaxy! This is no way to dig ourselves out of debt."

He responds, "But at least it's only 25%. If we'd declared Bankruptcy, who knows what that percentage would be." Only? How out of touch have we become? Very few can afford for their cost of living to increase so substantially.

"Yes it would've been bad!" Mon exclaims. "Our financial irresponsibility could only end poorly, but bankruptcy would've been manageable. We could've made it back out! Where does our current spiral end?"

"Well with the lighter interest rates and all of our new revenue, our debts are nearly paid!" Aang says.

Mon scoffs. "Don't remind me of our ridiculous agreement with the corporations."

Aang continues, "Look, the spiral ends soon. Even still, no currency is stronger than the Republic Credit. It will be tough for a time, but we'll mange." It sounds a bit like wishful thinking to me.

"Does Coruscant look pretty from your perspective in the clouds?" Mon asks, so I take it she agrees with me. "Have you considered becoming a representative for Bespin?"

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"Relief for my people on Onderon has proven difficult in these times of financial instability." Senator Zed Yanni, the newly appointed representative for Onderon says on the Senate floor. Zed isn't even from Onderon, but he's a Muun who shares interests with the Banking Clan, so they appointed him as a Senator.

"With all due respect Senator," Senator Chuchi begins, "do you really know anything about the state of Onderon? You've only represented the planet for a few short months, and I'm skeptical that your views reflect your people's."

"Well your skepticism doesn't change the facts." Zed responds. "And the fact is the people of Onderon are suffering as prices continue to climb, and their credits become less valuable."

"How would you know?" Mon Mothma asks. "Have you ever so much as placed a toe on the surface of Onderon?"

"Does he need to?" Senator Voe Atell, the new Magistrate for the Corporate Alliance asks. The amount of power she's gained may be the most staggering. "Every Senator here has visited their planet recently right? And did your visit give you the impression that your people were doing well?" As little as I respect Senator Atell, I must admit she makes a good point. My last few visits to Alderaan have been disheartening to say the least. She manages to silence even Mon for a moment.

Chancellor Taa cuts in, "Yes our people across the galaxy are suffering! But what can be done?"

"Oh worry not my friends." Senator Card says, and I have to stifle a groan. "What the galaxy needs right now is stability, but how can stability be attained when base needs have become so expensive? Well the Banking Clan has a solution. We are thrilled to announce that we will be distributing a new form of currency, the Corporate Euro." Senator Card holds up a round, shiny black coin. "With the Euro on the market, we can create financial stability for the galaxy."

"How will a new currency that no one has promote financial stability?" Mon asks.

"Rest assured distribution is a top priority." Card responds. "We want everyone to have access to our new currency. Our relief aid missions across the galaxy can really change lives, if the funds being dispersed are more valuable."

"And the people who aren't privy to your aid?" Mon asks. "What happens to them?"

"The Republic Credit won't cease to exist." Gume Saam interjects.

Senator Chuchi says, "But theoretically if you introduce a new currency into the economy, the Credit will become even less valuable."

"Then perhaps the Republic shouldn't have tanked the value of the Credit." Senator Yanni says.

"Funny." Mon says with no humor on her face. "You've been so supportive of printing more Credits in the past, yet now you condemn the practice?"

"It was necessary," Zed replies, "but it has created a bit of a problem, and now there is a solution."

"This is no solution." I say. "It will take too long for the Euro to get integrated into the economy, and in the meantime the Credit will spiral to new lows."

"Well I had hoped the Senate would be more optimistic about the news." Senator Card says. "Nonetheless, the Banking Clan will be printing and distributing the Corporate Euro in a matter of days. The galaxy can't wait any longer."

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"My word, what's happened to democracy?" Mon asks Chuchi and I after the meeting. "The citizens of the Republic aren't even being represented anymore!" This has been a very concerning development. These Confederate planets that are being "aided" all have Senators that are being appointed by the Banking Clan, Techno Union, and Corporate Alliance. These new Senators only care about what the corporations want.

"The corporations have taken a majority in the Senate." Chuchi says. "Are we anything more than spectators at this point?"

"Only if we believe ourselves to have already lost." Mon replies. "Our cause is to serve the people of the galaxy, and that is something that must be done, so now is no time to be disheartened friends. The people have never needed us more!"

"I couldn't agree more, Mon." I say.

Author's Note

Sometimes I feel like I should be doing more with the political aspect of my universe, but other times I think it's just right where it is. Who knows, but I like the way this is all coming together. Take note that time is passing fairly quickly. We're now a few months past the end of the Clone War, and a bizarre fun fact, a year on the galactic standard calendar is only ten months long.

#star wars #fanfic #alternate universe #bail organa

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probablypartalien · 1 year

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My posts aren’t very interesting lately, so I hope that no one follows me for my posts. /lh

I’m so glad that I’ve gotten proper help and proper diagnoses for my mental health stuff. Back in college, I overheard the conversation of a dear to me person describing their OCD symptoms to a loved one. There were so many that resonated with me that I began to identify with OCD and got a diagnosis. I also somehow managed to get a schizophrenia diagnosis- a diagnosis that was wildly speculative and, in my opinion, irresponsible.

I now know that the things that resonated with me about OCD were actually signs of my schizo-affective bipolar disorder as well as a generalized anxiety disorder. With the additional diagnoses for ADHD and CPTSD, things make so much more sense. The intrusive thoughts and weird beliefs that I could wake up and have a floor covered in sharks and water, the belief that my mother was running a money laundering scheme, and hallucinations are parts of more mental illnesses than I knew.

My intense paranoia that if I was working by a certain register would lead to me getting shot, believing that I was part of credit card fraud (something I realize was fueled by my mom stealing money from me and opening up credit cards in my name), as well as the terrible and impulsive things I’d do in a manic episode and the abject misery of depressive episodes and the subsequent psychosis were so hard for me to cope with. Especially without proper treatment.

But now, I’m learning how to cope and on proper medication to deal with the anxiety and schizo-affective bipolar disorder help me to feel like I am in control of my symptoms. That combined with two diagnoses that thoroughly label me as neurodivergent help me to understand the troubles I have with stuff that others make look so easy has led me to be kinder to myself and to understand the things that cause me duress. EMDR therapy has been a blessing I can hardly describe. For the first time, therapy feels useful. While my psychotherapist would like for me to go through the diagnosis tests and stuff for autism- something she feels I am certainly on the spectrum- I’m going to put that off for now. Especially with the way ADHD and CPTSD have so many of the same symptoms of autism, I’d rather go on with treatment for a while and see if that might just be what’s going on.

It’s honestly no wonder that I had a total mental breakdown at the end of my senior year of college going into my post-graduate fellowship thing. I’m angry with the psychiatrists I had before who were so negligent in getting me proper help. I hit a rock bottom after college that just about ended me. But now, here I am. And I can honestly say that I’m doing well. I have a support system and so much more knowledge. I wish I could go back in time and give this to my younger self. That’s impossible, though. So I’ll just keep getting better and better and fight my way to being a whole person and healing.

#mental illness #me rambling #long post

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addierose444 · 10 months

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Why I Have 6 Credit Cards At Age 21 Part I - My Credit Card Journey

I think that it’s imperative to preface this post by stating a few important points. If used incorrectly/irresponsibly, credit cards can be very dangerous as they have extremely high-interest rates. While this post isn’t designed to serve as your financial education and isn’t official financial advice, here are a few pointers on responsible credit card usage. First credit cards should be used like debit cards (as in you should never spend more money than you have in your checking account) and be paid off on time and in full. Paying on time is important to raise/maintain your credit score and paying in full is how you avoid paying even a single cent of interest. I’m not too worried about this myself as I am a naturally frugal person who religiously tracks every single purchase in my finance spreadsheet, but another danger of credit cards is that they do lead some people to spend more than they would have otherwise. The other thing to know about credit cards is that merchants must pay a processing fee which often results in inflated prices. Thus cashback can be a bit of an illusion. That said, with a few exceptions, if you pay with cash you still need to pay these inflated prices and don’t get anything back for it. In addition to building my credit (which will help me get a low-rate mortgage at some point in the future), and the cashback, I just like the security of credit cards as they aren’t directly linked to my checking account and have fraud liability.

I began my credit card journey back in 2019 when my dad added me as an authorized user to his Citi Double Cash. I was 17 years old at the time and was thus unable to get a credit card fully in my name. If you’ve been following my blog from the beginning, you’d know that I spent my summer before Smith in Los Angeles. It was for this reason that getting such a credit card made sense. As an authorized user, I got a credit card with my name on the front, but the bill and rewards (2% cashback, 1% when you buy, and another 1% when you pay) went to my dad. While I didn’t end up needing to use the card during that summer, being added as an authorized user (to a credit card that had/has been used responsibly) has really helped to boost my credit score. I will note however that being an authorized user doesn’t necessarily teach you how to be a responsible credit card user because the bill goes to the primary credit card holder. In my case, learning to use a debit card responsibly is more what prepared me to use credit cards responsibly. This authorized user card still played an important role as it served as a safety net of sorts for larger or emergency-type expenses. And while not exactly how credit cards should be used, as a student who was still a dependent this made a lot of sense.

During my first year of college, I used a debit card linked to my personal checking account to buy things like textbooks and the occasional fun treat like frozen yogurt. Speaking of finance and textbooks, check out my post on saving money on textbooks. The summer after my first year of college is when I first got interested in personal finance and educated myself through books and courses. It was at this time that I applied for my first credit card through my local credit union (UMassFive). I initially applied for their Rewards Visa® Signature which earns 1.5% cashback on all purchases, but was denied as all Visa® Signature cards have a minimum credit limit of $5,000. I was instead offered their basic Low Rate Visa® Platinum and told that I could product change to the rewards card later. While the interest rate for this credit card is significantly lower than what is typical for a credit card, carrying a balance is still absolutely something to avoid! If you are interested, you can check out what I had to say about personal finance back then in this post I wrote about banking and personal finance in college. After using the card responsibly for a year and a half, I thought I was ready for a credit limit increase. Unfortunately, I was denied as $500 is the maximum credit line UMassFive will extend to customers under the age of 21. While this basic card has served me well in helping me learn how to responsibly manage a credit card, nowadays I only keep it around to help boost the average age of my accounts. To keep it active I put a small charge on it every 6 months or so. I haven’t yet product changed to the rewards card as this would probably result in a hard pull on my credit report, I’m not yet sure I’d be approved for the $5,000 credit limit, and at this point, I already have a flat 2% back card (foreshadowing to part II). I may still do so in the future as my current 2% card has foreign transaction fees and the UMassFive rewards card doesn’t which would make it a nice catch-all card abroad.

In retrospect, I think I would have been better off starting with a student credit card that offered basic rewards. While it didn’t yet exist at the time, my current recommendation for students would be the Capital One SavorOne Rewards for Students which earns 3% cashback in a number of everyday categories (dining, entertainment, popular streaming services, and grocery stores) and 1% everywhere else with no foreign transaction fees. I’ve had this card for about eight months (more foreshadowing to part II) and found the mobile app to be fantastic and have enjoyed the built-in tool called CreditWise that helps you to monitor your credit score and report. Another good option (that I don’t have personal experience with) is the Capital One Quicksilver Rewards for Students which earns a flat 1.5% cashback. Please do your own research and educate yourself first, but if you are interested in these credit cards you check if you are pre-approved (with no impact on your credit score) and/or apply using my referral link.

After being denied the credit limit increase, I decided to just wait until I turned 21. During the summer of 2022 is when I really started to get interested in cashback credit cards and learned even more about personal finance. I’m a strong proponent of no-annual fee cashback credit cards as they are simple to understand and break even from the start. While I didn’t plan to pick up four credit cards within one year, the cashback cards I did acquire were planned out last summer. I had initially planned to spread out the applications six months apart but through the use of pre-approval tools learned that I could accelerate these acquisitions. Specifically, I applied for the first card in August, the next card three months later in November (after being pre-approved online), the next six months later in May, and the final one just a month later in June (after another pre-approval). While I don’t have any regrets, I can’t recommend being so aggressive with credit card applications as doing so lowers your credit score in the short term and it’s important to make sure you can handle multiple credit cards before getting more. This post has gotten a bit long, so you’ll have to wait until next week to learn about the four additional credit cards I picked up last year along with my overall credit card strategy.

#personal finance #credit cards #cashback #credit building #student

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tiggymalvern · 1 year

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Burn Notice - season 5 rewatch musings

In the first episode, when Michael tells the CIA dude that he insists on taking ‘his team’ along, CIA dude immediately assumes he means Sam and Fiona, and Michael confirms that yes, that’s exactly who he means. Sorry, Jesse, you don’t make the cut. I noticed that on the first watch, but then when I did the season write-up, I couldn’t remember whether Jesse had already returned to Miami, or if he didn’t show up till the end of the ep. But he was there right after the opening credits; it’s just that nobody’s including him on the list of Michael’s permanent attachments yet. Poor Jesse forgave these people a massive betrayal, then walked away from his career and came back to the only place he had friends, and it’s still not enough to count. You have to put in the years with the Burn Notice team, no short cuts. Bloodlines still hits like a truck the second time around. Brilliant writing, brilliant acting from Jeffrey Donovan and Sharon Gless. All the family trauma laid out hard. I wish Pearce had played more of an active role in season five. I didn’t notice her much on the first watch of this season, being more focussed on the main characters and the plot, but I really liked her by the time she left in season six, so this time I was specifically paying her more attention. She does have some great moments in season five – sticking up for Sam when Minaro’s being a dick about him, giving Michael his chance to prove his innocence after she arrests him – but too much of the time, she’s only there for a scene or two advancing the plot. When she is given the chance to play her part and show her personality, she’s great. People like Pearce, who are dedicated and smart and want to do the right thing are so much of the reason Michael wants his job back, why he wants to do the work again. And then later he gets stuck with Tom Card instead... Fiona’s so quick to suggest that she should turn herself in when Anson starts blackmailing Michael. I’d forgotten how early she decided that was going to be the only way out. She really has come a million miles from the selfish, irresponsible nightmare she was at the start (and she basically says it in her letter). It’s interesting that Michael doesn’t know the details of Sam getting kicked out of the navy, about Beatriz. He knows the first part, about the pissed off Admiral, then the next thing he would have heard would be that Sam suddenly decided to take early retirement, and Michael wouldn’t have believed that for a second. So he would presumably have asked Sam, but Sam signed an NDA, and he takes those things seriously (along with the very serious threat of jail). I wonder if Michael was ever tempted to poke around and see if he could find out? Or if he just rolled his eyes and figured that whatever it was, it would have been one of those very Sam things? Probably the latter. I get the feeling that pre-Burn Michael was much better behaved from the CIA’s perspective than post-Burn Michael - which isn’t to say that he was a particularly great person, as we gather from Larry, just that he would have been more inclined to follow orders and not risk sticking his nose into classified things that aren’t his assigned mission. Several times over the years of Burn Notice, we’ve seen old friends of Sam emerge looking for help, and each time, Sam is all, ‘This person saved my life, I have to help them.’ And he tells Michael the same thing here: ‘Beatriz saved me twice, I’ll do anything to help her.’ Except this time, we know that story. We know Sam got out of those situations twice, then walked back in because he wouldn’t leave behind the twenty or so civilians he’d collected along the way, and that’s why he needed a Beatriz. Sam blew up his career and his life for people he met two days before, and the only part he tells other people is how Beatriz saved him. And Michael listens to that and then works with the person who’s blackmailing him, because Sam asks him to. Because Michael knows Sam, and can probably start filling in some of the gaps for himself. I’m a little sad that the thing about Sam being a suspected Russian agent disappeared after the end of that ep. It would have been funny if it had cropped up again; Sam would have been absolutely livid. And there might have been a time or two when it could be useful, when they actually are dealing with Russians…

#burn notice #season 5

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diavolosthots · 3 years

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Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess.

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help.

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed.

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!”

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this.

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.”

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.”

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #mammon obey me #mammon #mammon avatar of greed #shall we date mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #tw angst

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scuttling · 3 years

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Crush

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 3,349 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Crushes, Fluff and smut, Rough sex, Unprotected sex, Manhandling Summary: Hotch has had a crush on the new member of his team for as long as he can remember. He keeps his distance, but he knows everything about her—her favorite snacks, how she takes her coffee. They share a room on a case, and at first, he's nervous, but being around her is comfortable, and he longs for more. Is it possible she feels the same way about him? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below!

Aaron has a crush on the newest member of his team. There’s no use denying it, or trying to compartmentalize it and pretend it doesn’t exist; it’s inappropriate, irresponsible, and just plain stupid, but he can’t talk himself out of it no matter how hard he tries. He is completely infatuated with her, whether he likes it or not.

And he does like it, sometimes. Sometimes, she will catch his eye on the jet, or in the office, shoot him a soft smile, and his heart beats fast, his chest feels warm. He thinks, I might never get to be with her, but she does think of me, and that’s something, at least.

Sometimes, he hates it, especially times like these, when they’re all on the jet and Morgan is using every ounce of his charm and charisma, the easy smile he doesn’t think twice about flashing, to try to get her to go out on a date with him. She hasn’t accepted the offer yet, and he’s been trying for about five months, almost the entirety of her career at the BAU, but that doesn’t make Aaron feel any better.

He knows Morgan very well. He’ll convince her eventually, and even if it doesn’t go anywhere, he’ll think about the two of them together all the time and never be able to stop. It will take his (mostly) innocent crush to a darker place, a place of anger and jealousy he’s not proud of, but has no control over.

“I would take you on the most incredible date of your life, mama. Dinner, dancing, a moonlit stroll; we go out for a couple of drinks, maybe I'll try to steal a kiss...”

“Maybe I’ll punch you in the face...” she says with a smirk, but he knows flirting when he hears it, and her threat carries no weight. Morgan shrugs, grins.

“Maybe, but I can take a punch. You need a man, and I am fully prepared to be that man; one little love tap won’t stop me.” She raises her eyebrows, looks over at him with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, first thing’s first: I don't do love taps, I do right hooks, so don't tempt me. Second, I don’t need a man, I want a man, and not just any man will do. When I want something, I want something specific. If I want dessert—”

Cherry cheesecake, Aaron thinks. He’s seen her order it three times, is slightly obsessed with the sound she makes when she takes the first bite.

“—I want cherry cheesecake or nothing. Not chocolate, not strawberry. If I want a glass of wine—”

Pinot Grigio if she wants white, Merlot if she wants red—she almost never wants red.

“—I want Pinot Grigio or nothing. If I have to have red, I’ll order Merlot, but I won’t be happy about it. When we’re on a case and I can’t sleep, and I come out to stare at the vending machine for a midnight snack—”

She either gets peanut butter crackers, or barbeque chips. That’s an easy one. Morgan has to know that.

“—I’ll get barbeque chips, or peanut butter crackers, or nothing. I am uncompromising when it comes to the things I want. So, Derek Morgan,” she says with a smirk, and a bit of attitude; it only makes Morgan smile brighter, and Aaron refrains from rolling his eyes, “when I want a man, I want a specific type of man, and I won’t be worn down no matter how many times you ask me out.”

“And what specific type of man do you want?” he asks, crossing his arms. Everyone is paying attention to their conversation, even Aaron, though he tries to pretend he isn’t.

“Well for starters, a man. You’re acting like a guy right now, and I’m not interested in guys.” JJ says ooh, burn, and everyone laughs. “I want a man who knows who he is, even if who he is isn’t pleasing to everyone. I want a man who isn’t afraid to feel vulnerable, who can be tender, who doesn’t run from a situation just because it makes him emotional. I want a man who pays attention to me when it counts, not just when he wants something. I want a man who will respect my boundaries,” she says, a little pointed, “who will help me grow but not try to change me. Most importantly, I want a man who can handle me, and I don’t think you can handle me.”

Aaron blinks hard at that. He’s pretty certain he could handle her, absolutely wants to.

“Alright, I can’t argue with a woman who knows what she wants, and it’s obvious you know what you want,” Morgan says, palms up in surrender. “Let me know when you find the lucky guy—man—so I can warn him about you.”

“Baby, I am the warning,” she says with a wink, and Aaron shifts in his seat.

It’s going to be a long flight to California. When they get to the hotel, JJ hands out the room assignments as usual, and he’s very surprised when she hands her a key out of the envelope marked 313, and then does the same for him. JJ shrugs.

“They didn’t have any singles, I guess. We’re all doubled up.” The other woman adjusts her bag on her shoulder, looks up at him.

“Is that a problem? I promise I won’t disturb you,” she says with a smile, and he shakes his head and, hopefully, his nervousness.

“No, of course it’s not a problem. Thanks, JJ. Looks like we’re this way,” he says, guiding her down the hall.

Their room is a little cramped, but clean, and he takes the bed closest to the door, sets his bag on it. She walks past him, throws her bag on the other bed and puts her hands on her hips, stares down at the ground. It takes him a moment to understand why.

“We could probably move your nightstand against the wall, share the one in the middle.” She looks up, confused, and he rubs the back of his neck. “You need room to lay down your yoga blanket, right? I know you’ve mentioned before that it helps put you to sleep when we’re traveling.” A brilliant smile curves across her face.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was trying to figure out. Thanks.” He moves to help her, but she lifts the table easily, tucks it in the corner between the desk and the lamp. She rolls out her blanket, pulls an outfit out of her bag. “I’m just going to get changed, and then the bathroom is all yours; I’ll be out of your hair.”

“It’s no trouble,” he says, and he means it; she just nods and smiles again, ducks into the bathroom to change her clothes.

Her outfit is… it’s tight, for lack of a better description, a strappy sports bra and patterned leggings; she does a lot of bending, and stretching, and balancing, her body strong and sleek. He tries to go about his business, but he can’t stop looking.

Once he’s finally able to convince himself to look away, lest she get suspicious of his inactivity, he changes his clothes, takes off his watch and sets it beside his gun, badge, and phone on his side of the nightstand. He pulls out his tablet to get caught up on the news, and it’s actually kind of comforting, the soft hum of her breathing the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

He doesn’t realize she’s finished until she walks around between the beds, grabs her badge off the nightstand and slides her credit card out from behind her photo ID. “Heading to the vending machine; need anything?” she asks, and he shakes his head—he already brushed his teeth—earning one of her soft smiles.

She grabs her key, slips out the door, and returns a few minutes later with a pack of peanut butter crackers and a bag of peanut M&Ms—his guilty pleasure. She tosses them onto the bed beside him, and her lips twitch, and she strolls into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

He eats his M&Ms and does not imagine what she looks like wet.

Ultimately, he’s happy she was so thoughtful to bring him a snack, but that does mean he needs to brush his teeth again. The bathroom door is open, steam wafting out, so he figures it’s safe to enter while she finishes getting ready for bed. She’s standing at one of the double sinks, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, brushing her teeth, and he steps up beside her and prepares to do the same.

It’s pleasant, companionable, the familiar sounds of scrape-scrub-spit, and then she washes her face with some foamy, herbal scented concoction he couldn’t begin to identify. He washes his with soap and a little hot water, and she cringes; he frowns.

“What is it?” he asks, toweling off. She hesitates a moment, then flicks open a blue bottle, squeezes a bit of cream into her hands, and lifts them toward his face, pausing with a question in her eyes. He swallows, but leans in closer, and she rubs it over his cheeks, his chin, his forehead.

“Soap like that isn’t good for your skin, not even for guys, and I figured you don’t moisturize. This stuff is unisex, and it will keep you looking young and fresh and handsome; you can have this one, I’ve got more.” She pulls back, washes her hands, and he’s left kind of dazed, longs for the feel of her hands on his face again. That was an unexpected, but very welcome, thing. The next morning, he’s up early, so he showers and gets dressed and then heads down to the lobby for some coffee and a paper. He grabs two cups, stacks them in his hand when he goes to unlock the door to their room; she is awake when he returns, freshly dressed, hair pulled back, and she takes the coffees from his hand before he spills them everywhere.

“Thanks. The one on the left is for you; two sugars,” he says offhand, grabbing his cup and setting it down on the nightstand, flipping open the paper. He sits down on the edge of the bed closest to the nightstand, doesn’t notice her smile, but she settles on her bed across from him, sips her coffee, and reaches up to pull the sports section out from between his fingers. He maybe cracks a smile of his own. That evening, they get back to the room a little cranky, another late night full of dead end leads, and she skips yoga and heads straight for the shower. The blissfully hot water feels good against her skin, and she thinks about touching herself, but it wouldn’t be appropriate, not with Hotch just outside the door.

The thought only makes her hotter, but still, she refrains.

When she’s wrapped up in her towel, she pushes open the door like the night before, starts brushing her teeth, and it’s not long before Hotch fills the space beside her, copying her actions. She washes her face, and he washes his with soap again—so, so wrong—but at least he uses the moisturizer she gave him afterward. Baby steps.

He leaves the room, and she follows him out to grab her pajamas, sees a bottle of water and a bag of barbeque chips laying on her bed.

Enough is enough, she thinks. She wasn’t sure, until they shared this room, but now she’s 100% certain that Hotch has a thing for her, and she’s harboring her own thing, which is stupid. If she wants him (she really, really does) and he wants her, why aren’t they naked already?

Thankfully, that’s easily remedied. She drops her towel, and Hotch looks up from his tablet, drops his jaw.

“I’ve been thinking about last night; how shy you were about our sharing a room. It made me wonder if you’re shy about other things, too.” She walks around her bed, stands between them, presses her fingers to his tablet to push it down, out of his hands. “Are you shy, Hotch?”

“No,” he says roughly, making no effort to conceal the way his eyes sweep over her naked body. She’d blush, but she’s not the blushing type.

“No?” She climbs up, settles in his lap—he’s tenting his boxers already and it makes her feel awesome—and his hands fall to her thighs, spread around him, squeezing roughly. She moans, rolls her hips slowly. “Do you think you can handle me, Hotch? I’m kind of a lot.”

He answers with his hands, grabs her face and pulls her down for a long, dirty, messy kiss. Her chest is heaving by the end of it, and she’s definitely leaving a wet patch on his underwear, she’s so fucking horny. He tips her back, so she’s laying against the sheets, tugs off his shirt, and drapes himself on top of her, tilts her head to the side so he can get his mouth on her neck.

“Oh my god, mmm,” she sighs as he sucks on her throat, grinding his clothed dick against her, and she moves her hands down to sweep them over his body, but he grabs them, pins them up by her head instead. “Fuck, Hotch.” It leaves her mouth as a trembling gasp, and he looks up at her, his eyes dark and hard; he growls out a command for her to stay—she’s sure as shit not going for a damn stroll any time soon—and leans up, pushes his boxers down, and flips her body over.

She’s laying a little sideways, kind of lined up with the bottom corner of the bed—it always makes her feel like a complete whore to fuck anywhere but right up against the pillows, so this alone is enough to get her super hot. He gets both broad palms on her ass, squeezes her hard enough to hurt (and damn if that doesn’t make her pussy drip) and then slowly slides his fingers over her slit, making her toss her head back and groan.

“Oh, yeah. So, so good,” she sighs as he rubs her, spreads her wetness between her lips, over her clit and her mound so she’s sticky and soaked and begging for more, and then he plants his hands on either side of her and thrusts in so hard she has to dig her fingers into the sheets or she’ll go skidding off the bed. “Holy fuck,” she gasps, clutching for dear life as he slams inside roughly and deeply, but so slow it’s almost torture.

“So how am I handling you?” he asks, low into her ear, leaning in to press his chest heavily against her back, rolling his hips and grinding where he’s seated deep. He pulls out almost all of the way and then slams back in so quickly her whole body stutters forward, and her head’s empty, no thoughts but my boss is fucking me and my boss is fucking me good.

She just pants in reply, and he repeats that motion over and over, fast, nearly withdrawing just to fill her until his balls slap against her; she feels filthy, and amazing, and a little pissed it took them this long to do this, and she comes screaming his name, yanking so hard at the bedding that she pulls the fitted sheet right off the mattress.

He keeps pumping inside her, and she clenches around him, moans. He grunts, leans in to nibble her ear. “That’s my girl. Can you handle me?”

“My god, yeah.” She wants to, at least; she’s never been fucked this good in her life, so she’s honestly not sure how much she can handle. It’s always the quiet ones, she really should have known.

“Trust me on this,” he whispers, and she does because she does; he puts his hands on her arms, pries them off of the bed and moves her forward, guides her hands to the floor to support her so she’s half off the bed, her ass up. She’s strong, and he knows she’s strong, but she’s not sure she’s strong enough for this because he just fucking destroyed her and her legs are still shaking. “Trust me,” he coos again, and he shifts up, gets one foot on the ground, holds tightly to her hips, and pounds into her fast and hard, short thrusts that have her moaning and groaning and coming a second time before he even comes once.

He does come, though, just after, and she’s glad she’s got an IUD because if not she’d be leaving here fucking pregnant, no doubt about that.

“Hotch,” she gasps, daring to reach an arm back to touch him, and he pulls her up, lays her back, and kisses her, smoothing his hands all over her body. “Jesus. That was incredible.” She cards her fingers through his hair—he’s breathing heavy too, looks as dopey and pleased as she feels, which makes her smile. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you for the last few months. Thought you didn’t notice me much,” she says softly, and he laughs, incredulous.

“Didn’t notice you? All I do is look at you,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers over her cheek. She grins.

“Yeah, no, I got that. I figured that out; sorry it took me so long.” He leans in for a kiss, softer and slower, and she gets a little horny again, isn’t sure how that’s possible. “Why’d you stay away so much, if you liked me?” She’d done what she could to get his attention, smiling at him, brushing up against him when she could make it look innocent enough, but he’s always been the picture of propriety, maybe even a little distant.

“Morgan,” he says, making a face like he realizes how silly that was. “He’s been trying to ask you out and I figured you’d say yes eventually; he’s confident in ways I’m not. He’s a lot of things I’m not.”

“Yeah, that’s true, and I like you both for the ways you’re different, but his pursuing me has always been a game. A joke. He’s like a brother to me and he knows it. All in fun,” she says, and then he looks like he feels really silly. She leans up for a kiss. “All's well that ends well though, right?”

“Has this ended well?” he asks, a question in his eyes, and she runs her hands over his arms, his sides.

“If it’s up to me, I’d say this doesn’t have to end at all.” He puts a hand in her hair, kisses her deeply, passionately, and brings a few fingers to rub against her clit. She inhales sharply, licks her lips, and sinks back against the bed. “Oh my god, Hotch.”

“That’s right, baby. I’m your man,” he breathes into her ear, and she groans. Yes, he fucking is. The next morning, she goes to the lobby to pour their coffee, grab a paper to share. She passes Morgan—not a morning person—who grumbles a greeting and then does a double take.

“Whatcha got on your neck there, sweetheart?” he asks, and she grins privately, then schools her expression and turns to face him.

“What? Oh, that,” she says, poking at the purple hickey from the night before. “I’ll cover it with makeup later; needed my coffee first.” He blinks a couple times like he's missing something, frowns.

“Did you go out last night after we got here?”

“Nope, jumped in the shower and went straight to bed,” she replies, which is actually the truth. It just wasn’t her bed. She didn’t say anything about sleeping.

“Then who…?” It’s then that Hotch brushes by them, reaches out a hand for his cup.

“One sugar, one cream,” she says as she passes it over, and they both smile. Morgan knocks his cup over and spills coffee all over the floor.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female reader #ask #request #crush #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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bbysamu · 3 years

Note

baby cakes, I loved you blog! I'm so happy I found it, I'm binge-reading it since yesterday 💖💖 If you're accepting asks, can you do "asking for your husband credit card" but for oikawa? thakss 💖 chuchu anon

#Haikyuu boys when he’s asleep and you ask for his credit card to buy something ridiculously expensive // pt. 3

featuring:: OIKAWA Toru, AKAASHI Keiji, SUGAWARA Koshi, MIYA Atsumu

genre:: TikTok

warnings:: none!

inspired by:: @noelleagcaoili’s tiktok

⤷ PART 1 ; PART 2

a/n: when you call me baby cakes 🥺 also chuchu anon? that’s so adorable. I’m so happy you’re here my beloved chuchu! thanks for requesting. I apologize to everyone but I wrote it for Tsumu again bc I forgot I wrote about him in part 2 already 😂 this is fine. We’ll just pretend we pranked him with this prank again...

✭ OIKAWA Toru

⤷ "babe, babe, babe. You gotta wake up, it's an emergency." Oikawa's eyes spring open at the keyword "emergency" and immediately sits up. "princess, what's wrong?" You reach out your hand, "I need your credit card right now. There's that collaboration between Pat McGrath and Surpreme. I have the lipstick in my basket right now." Knowing how big of a deal this collaboration as, your husband immediately reaches over into the drawer and pull out his card, handing it to you. "Make sure you get it. See if you can get two. We can resell the other one." You attempt to give him a kiss but he turns his head, "hurry! go!" About thirty minutes, your husband emerges from the bedroom, soft brown hair tousled from his nap. With a loving smile, he wraps his arms around and rests his chin on your shoulder, "did you get it?" "yup!" He hears the smile in your face. "good good, how much was it?" "$3000." Your shoulders suddenly very light from the absence of his weight as his arms fall limp to his side. You turn around to see your gaping husband, stuttering over his words. "three-three-THREE THOUSAND?" You nod as he shouts again, "THREE THOUSAND? FOR A LIPSTICK?" "Toru it's just a joke. I didn't end up buying the lipstick, it was sold out." Oikawa looks at you before reaching out his hand. "what do you want?" "give me back my card." "why?" "I'm revoking your credit card privileges." You pout as you slide the card back to him. "fine, can we cuddle at least?" He grins as he opens his arms wide for you.

✭ AKAASHI Keiji

⤷ You look at the peaceful figure of your sleeping husband and almost feel bad for waking him up. "Keiji," you whisper. Akaashi is a light sleeper and the nervous tone in your voice got him looking up at you sleepily. "yes?" he whispers back. "can I borrow your card?" "sure, princess. You know you don't have to ask." With that, he turns his back to you and continues his slumber. An hour later, you return back to bed and nuzzle yours face against his back. "welcome back" he turns around, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest. "what'd you get?" "a few shirts from this brand I really like." He nods sleepily, "that's good." "I got a really good deal too." "great." When he doesn't ask further questions, you elaborate as you run your fingers through his hair. "yeah it was really great Keiji. I got four t-shirts for four thousand dollars." "oh wow, what a steal." He mumbles, before looking up at you in a panic. "Did you just say four t-shirts for four thousand dollars?" You bite your cheeks from laughing. "yes." Akaashi rubs his eyes tiredly, "you know we don't make enough for you to spend money like this. Also we're saving up for renovation next month. How could you be so irresponsible?" The disappointment in his voice and face has you caving in on your prank. "It's just a joke, babe." He lets out a sigh of relief before wrapping his arms around you again. "it wasn't very funny." "but you still love me right?" "now that's a funny question."

✭ SUGAWARA Koshi

⤷ There's nothing Suga likes more than to woken up by you peppering his face with kisses. "wake up!" one kiss. "Suga!" another one. Your husband opens one eye, "give me one more and I'll wake up." You roll your eyes but plant one on his forehead. "okay, I'm up now." "I need your credit card, babe." "oh sure." He reaches over and pulls out his wallet handing it to you before suddenly pulling his hand back. "babe!" He laughs, "kiss me again and I'll give you the card." You comply and he deepens the kiss before you pull away reluctantly. "this won't work on me. There's something I really like that's in my shopping bag already." He smiles, "darn, I thought I'd be able to stop you from spending more money. Come back as soon as you're done and we can continue this okay?" You run to the living room and pretend to type on your computer before returning ten minutes later. "you got everything?" "mmhmm" you reply as you climb back into bed with him. "what'd you get?" "a bag." He presses light kisses on your necks, "care to elaborate?" "it's those French girl picnic basket straw bags." "sounds pretty." "it is and it was only $5500". "what?" His lips hover slightly above your neck. "did you just say $5500?" "yup!" "$5500 and you're proud of it?" "yeah it was a really good steal." With that he turns his back to you, giving you the silent treatment. "babe, I'm just kidding. It was only $50. Don't be mad, what happend to continuing the kiss from earlier?" "no." You laugh before attacking his face with butterfly smooches, the both of you knowing full well, you'd most definitely be continuing that kiss from earlier.

✭ MIYA Atsumu

⤷ You glare at your snoring husband and smacks him across the chest. "oof!" Atsumu wakes up, rubbing his chest. "what'd ya do that for princess?" "first of all, stop snoring so loudly, second of all, may I borrow your card?" You give him your best puppy eyes as he groans. "Why'd ya always do this? Killing me with yer eyes." You laugh as you take the card and skip away to the computer only to return two hours later. You smack your sleeping husband again. "Here you go!" Atsumu wakes up, fully annoyed. "ya could've just put it back into my wallet, ya know? didn't have to wake me up." "but don't you want to learn about what I've bought?" He dismissively waves his hands, "sure, what'd ya buy?" "you know that limited edition Endgame poster I really like? I found one online with all the actor's signatures." He lazily looks up at you, "really? that's great. Must've been expensive though. How much was it?" You shrug, "eh, I thought it was okay. It was just $2100." Atsumu sits up in bed, absolutely shellshocked at the price that came out of your mouth. "Are ya serious? $2100 for some flimsy paper! Y/N, yer crazy!" "You know it's my favorite movie!" You pout and once again attack him with puppy eye no jutsu. Atsumu groans, his heart torn over his money and you. "FINE. Promise me this is the last time you'd ever spend this much on something like this." He begs as you break out into laughter. "It's just a joke! What do you take me for? You think I'm you? You think I'd spend money on useless things?" "YOU SAID IT WAS OKAY TO GET A TRAMPOLINE." "NOT A $3000 ONE!" "fine. I'm sorry okay?" "now you know how it feels." "might I interest ya in some cuddles?" "fine, but you better make it a good one."

friendly reminder: get up and stretch those legs out, don’t sit all day.

stay fetch, xoxo

#ceci.writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu hcs #oikawa x reader #akaashi x reader #sugawara x reader #Atsumu x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #hq hcs

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.

tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜

author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.

“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.

You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?

God, you’re an altruist.

“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)

“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”

“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,” you correct.

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.

“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.

“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.

“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”

“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”

He hangs up immediately.

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.

“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.

“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.

“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.

“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.

“Sure, we can talk talk.”

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”

“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”

He nods. You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”

“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.

“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.

“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.

“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”

You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.

You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.

“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.

“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.

Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.

“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.

“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.

You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook: Hey. from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun! to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.

“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer: you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.

“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”

“W-what?”

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.

“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.

He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”

“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean? Feel right?

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“You like her, right?”

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?

“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay. Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.

“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”

You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,” she tries again, concerned.

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.

This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.

“W-what?”

“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.

“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”

There’s something thick in your throat.

“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.

“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.

“I’m kidding.”

It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.

“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”

“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.

“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.

“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.

“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it. Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

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